Parking is insane in any major city, but in West Hollywood it’s particularly bad. It’s to the point now where it would actually be cheaper for me to buy a house just to get the residential parking pass, than to pay these constant tickets.
At the curb where I park, my commercial permit (‘I work in the city’) is good only until 7pm, when it becomes residential-only. Presumably, so residents can park in the precious spot I love to occupy. But THERE ARE NO HOUSES ON THIS STREET. And when I inevitably come sprinting, breathless, out to the curb at 7:24, having realized in the middle of a meeting what the clock portends, the street is invariably EMPTY. Save for my lonely little car. Kept company, I suppose, by the little piece of paper fluttering under the wiper.
And then the post office loses my check and I’m liable for late fees to the state. GOVERNMENT CONSPIRACY BLAH